


another sleepless night

by Twice_before_Friday



Series: Altered & Extended - season 1 [16]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Concussions, Episode: s01e16 The Job, Gen, Good Parent Gil Arroyo, Hospitals, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25032775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/pseuds/Twice_before_Friday
Summary: "Christ, kid, you can give your statement about your hare-brained plans a little later when we get back to the precinct. I meant what happened to your head." Gil huffs out a frustrated breath. Of course Malcolm would think the case is more important. Despite his best efforts throughout the years, he's never been able to get it through Malcolm's thick skull that he matters."Oh," Malcolm says quietly. "One of them bumped into me after they all shot each other. Knocked the chair over." Malcolm mumbles, which worries Gil in and of itself. Bright's elocution is typically flawless. "It's fine, though," he hurries to add, straightening his shoulders and pulling himself off of the column. "He said it's just a crunchy crack to the occipital bone."
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Series: Altered & Extended - season 1 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557952
Comments: 16
Kudos: 128





	another sleepless night

**Author's Note:**

> All works in this series are stand alone. You don't have to have read the others to read this one.
> 
> Thanks again to KateSamantha for helping me find a way through this.

_And how often do you get to run a guy down in a vintage Porsche?!_

_Bright, you okay?!_

_Fine. Good. Thanks._

_What happened?_

_We happened. The corner table boys. The bad seeds. We saved the day. I'm not under arrest, am I?_

\---

Although Malcolm is smiling — so much that he seems almost manic — and claims to be fine, Gil can't help but notice the way his eyes are pinched around the corners, the way his skin has taken on a slightly ashen hue that makes him look even more unwell than usual.

Gil knows damn well that Malcolm will underplay any injuries he may have received, so he doesn't bother asking right away. Instead, he uses his keen detective's eye to survey the scene that he's just blindly run into.

With a cursory look around the space, he clocks two dead bodies on the floor in front of them, one body crushed between Vijay's Porsche and the bay door off to his right, and a fourth person, a woman, curled up and groaning on the ground on the far side of the warehouse. 

He also notices a tipped over chair just to the side of all the carnage with a small amount of blood splattered on the floor, just above the back of the chair. He may not have Bright's Quantico training, but it's not hard to work out the basics of who was where, when the shit hit the fan.

Following Gil's directions to wait five minutes before following, three police cruisers barrel into the warehouse, the screech of their breaks echoing through the cavernous space as they stop just behind Dani and Gil. All three units have their lights flashing, casting the scene in a lurid wash of colours, but keep the sirens off, leaving the sound of car doors slamming and boots hitting the ground free to ring through the space as the officers depart their cars.

With a sharp wave of his hand, Gil gestures for Dani and the officers to check for survivors and secure the remaining suspect, not that she's likely to make a break for it, if the sizable streak of blood beneath her is any indication of her current state. 

Once he's sure the scene is being handled, Gil takes the few steps over to where Bright is leaning against the pillar behind him, what little colour he has draining from his face.

"Hey, kid, you're not looking so hot," Gil says, a thick layer of worry coating the words to take the sting out. He brings a hand to the nape of Malcolm's neck and gives a gentle squeeze, a comforting gesture that he's performed a million times, but when his hand touches Malcolm's skin, it's immediately met by the tacky feeling of blood. "Shit. What happened, Bright?" he asks, pulling his hand back to find blood on his fingers. It's not a lot, and, since it's already drying and tacky, he doubts Malcolm is actively bleeding, but he still drops his hands to Malcolm's shoulders and spins him around so he can assess the damage.

Malcolm groans at the motion and drops his forehead against the pillar once he stops. "Ooooh. Let's not do the spinning right now, okay?" His voice comes back muffled as he slides his hands into the sides of his hair and holds his head like he's trying to keep it from falling off.

Gil carefully examines the back of Malcolm's head, taking in the golf ball-sized lump that most definitely shouldn't be there. He's gentle as he parts Malcolm's hair, heart clenching at the small hiss of pain that's drawn from Malcolm at the movement, to find the source of the blood. It's a small gash, and while it is still sluggishly dripping, it doesn't seem to be an immediate concern. The lump is definitely the bigger worry.

"Bright, I need you to tell me what happened," Gil drops a warm hand to Malcolm's shoulder, letting him know he's not alone and, very slowly this time, turns him back around.

"I found Vijay, and we told the crew I was the appraiser. We said that the company sent—"

"Christ, kid, you can give your statement about your hare-brained plans a little later when we get back to the precinct. I meant what happened to your head." Gil huffs out a frustrated breath. Of course Malcolm would think the case is more important. Despite his best efforts throughout the years, he's never been able to get it through Malcolm's thick skull that he matters.

"Oh," Malcolm says quietly. "One of them bumped into me after they all shot each other. Knocked the chair over." Malcolm mumbles, which worries Gil in and of itself. Bright's elocution is typically flawless. "It's fine, though," he hurries to add, straightening his shoulders and pulling himself off of the column. "He said it's just a crunchy crack to the occipital bone."

"Um, who said that?" Vijay asks, speaking up for the first time and Gil notices that he's looking as worried about Malcolm as he himself is feeling.

Malcolm's face falls for a fraction of a second before he can paste his too-wide smile back on, but it's long enough for Gil to form his own conclusions of exactly whom he's talking about. It wouldn't be the first time that the voice in Malcolm's head took the form of Doctor Whitly, and Gil is certain it won't be the last. But he also knows how painful it is for Malcolm to admit, so he decides to let it slide. For now.

"An ambulance is on the way," Gil says, taking Vijay's focus off of Malcolm for a moment. Though Gil was wary of Vijay's presence in Malcolm's life again after how their friendship ended back when they were kids, and though he certainly doesn't approve of Vijay making a side deal for the watches, he doesn't want to air Malcolm's dirty laundry in front of the man if their friendship really is in the process of healing. "Maybe we should get you sitting down until it gets here."

Vijay eagerly nods his agreement, but Malcolm holds up a hand in protest. "I'm fine." At the two incredulous looks he receives, he amends the statement to, "I'm well enough that I don't need an ambulance."

"You haven't seen the knock on your noggin, baby boy," Vijay says, ambling in front of Malcolm and straightening the profiler's jacket. "It's totes not the right accessory for this suit."

There's worry beneath the man's blinding smile and smooth veneer, and if Gil can pick it up, then he's sure Malcolm can, too. But Bright just quirks a crooked smile at the man and doesn't seem to notice the concern. It's yet another thing that's not sitting quite right with Gil.

"Yeah, it's a little out of season, right?" Malcolm chuckles, but the action clearly sends a spike of pain through his head and his eyebrows draw together as he squeezes his eyes closed for a moment. He brushes it away quickly, and Gil knows from experience that Malcolm is going to try to sweep everything under the rug, and, if he's allowed, will spend the rest of the night working and ignoring his injury. Gil has no intention of giving him that option.

"Bright, you can either wait here for the ambulance or I can drive to the hospital right now," Gil says, his tone brooking no argument. It's not often he uses what Malcolm termed his 'dad voice', back when he was a stubborn teenager that wanted nothing more than to go on every single stakeout that Gil worked. Gil learned quickly that a firm hand was sometimes needed to keep the kid safe from his reckless lack of self regard. 

Malcolm pouts — actually _pouts_ — but Gil can see the moment he realizes that he's on the losing side of a battle that he's in no shape to fight.

"Cool, cool," Vijay smiles and slings his arm around Malcolm's shoulders, "I'll even let you have shotgun this time, Whitly." 

Gil's tempted to tell Vijay to back off, but Malcolm looks so damn happy to have Vijay as a friend again, that he can't seem to bring himself to tell the man to ease up. And so he sighs and gives his head a shake, reluctantly sweeping his hand in front of him, gesturing for Vijay to lead the way.

"Powell," Gil calls out, waiting for the detective to look up from where she's crouched beside one of the dead bodies before he says, "I'm taking Bright to the hospital. I'll get Mr. Chandasara's statement while we're there. I'm leaving you in command of the scene." At Dani's solemn nod, Gil turns and makes his way towards Vijay and Malcolm, who are already near the entrance to the warehouse, Malcolm leaning heavily on Vijay, who still has an arm around his shoulder.

Vijay slides in the back of the car without question, allowing Gil to help settle Malcolm into the passenger seat, placing a protective hand on the side of his head as he lowers him down, making sure he doesn't bump his already bruised head. With a growing apprehension, Gil watches as Malcolm scrubs a hand over his face and bites back a groan, his skin taking on a distinct shade of green that Gil can make out even in the dim lighting of the car.

By the time Gil gets in and pulls out of the warehouse parking lot, Bright has his eyes closed and looks to be keeping himself as still as possible. He knows the motion of the car is likely doing no favours for his head, but the last thing he wants is for him to fall asleep before the doctors have a chance to check him out.

"So, did you figure out who the killer is?" Gil asks, reaching across the seats to grasp Malcolm's shoulder, keeping one hand on the steering wheel and one eye on the road. He probably shouldn't be asking right now, should wait to take Malcolm's formal statement, but if there's anything bound to keep the kid talking, it's the psychological profile of a killer.

"Yep, it was Pete," Malcolm says through slightly clenched teeth. 

"The one that became my new hood ornament?" Vijay asks, pulling himself up between the seats, his head poking out between Gil and Malcolm's.

"Mmhmm," Malcolm hums, eyes still closed.

Gil is getting legitimately concerned about Bright's state of wellness. The fact that he's not offering any details about Pete's motives, about how he discovered that Pete was the killer in the first place, is setting off all kinds of alarm bells and Gil's foot presses a little heavier on the gas pedal.

"So why'd he do it then," Gil prods, aiming to keep Malcolm awake. "Was he just another thrill killer?"

Malcolm doesn't answer right away, and when he does speak, it's with an urgency that Malcolm doesn't often possess. 

"Pull over."

"What?" Gil asks, but he's automatically pulling to the curb without conscious thought. "What's wrong?"

Malcolm is fumbling with the door handle before Gil has even stopped the car, struggling to get his seatbelt off at the same time. Gil has to slam on the breaks as Malcolm nearly throws himself from the car.

"Jesus Christ, Bright, what are you doing!?" Gil shouts, throwing the car in park and rushing to get out. He can hear Malcolm retching before he even makes it around the car to the sidewalk. He slows his pace, giving the kid a moment of privacy before he continues on, finding Malcolm on hands and knees, vomiting into the gutter just behind the car.

When Malcolm finishes, the last of the meager contents of his stomach along with all of his stomach acid expelled from his body, he maneuvers himself so he's sitting on the sidewalk with his back pressed against the car, head tilted to avoid bumping the goose egg and eyes closed as he sucks in deep and measured breaths.

Gil drops to a crouch in front of him and brushes away the hair that's fallen into his face. Malcolm's skin is cool and clammy beneath his fingers and Gil debates on just calling a bus and having the paramedics take Malcolm the rest of the way to the hospital. As if hearing his thoughts, Malcolm's eyes open, bloodshot and glassy, and he offers a small smile.

"M'okay," he says quietly, between breaths, "better now."

"Think you're ready to get back in the car?" Gil asks, tucking a stubborn strand of hair behind Bright's ear for the fourth or fifth time.

"Where we goin‘?" Malcolm asks as his eyes slip shut again. The slurred speech, impaired memory, confusion, all of it is screaming concussion and Gil realizes there's no more time to screw around. Malcolm needs to get to the hospital now. 

Gil shuffles forward and gets his arms under Malcolm's armpits, grunting, "Up we go," as he pulls him to his feet and navigates him back into the car. Vijay helps to steady Bright's body from the backseat as Gil bends to lift his legs into the car, and in no time at all, they're back on the road, Gil breaking a number of traffic laws in his rush to drive those last five minutes.

"Hey there, Whitly. Happy to see you've gotten over some of those sleeping problems you had as a kid, but now's not really the time for a nap," Vijay says, leaning forward between the seats once again, and tapping the side of Malcolm's face.

For all of Gil's reservations about the sudden return of Vijay into Malcolm's life, he has to admit that the man still seems to care for Malcolm. He just hopes that the friendship stands the test of time better now than it did before. Malcolm had been devastated to lose his best friend all those years ago, and Gil doesn't want him to ever feel like that again.

"M'fine," Malcolm drags his eyelids open with a visible effort. "Hun'red percent."

"I hate to tell you this baby boy, but you're not really looking it," Vijay says, turning Malcolm's face to look at him directly, obviously aiming to keep him awake. "And you are definitely not smelling your freshest right about now," he adds as he gets a whiff of Malcolm's breath.

Gil lets Vijay focus on keeping Malcolm talking so that he can focus on getting them safely to the hospital. It only takes a few minutes to pull up to the emergency entrance of the hospital, and Gil rushes to Malcolm's side, gently but firmly hauling him out of the car, trying to ignore the way Malcolm's groan feels like a dagger to his heart. Vijay unfolds himself from the backseat right away and moves to Malcolm's other side so that Malcolm's weight is fully supported between them and they can hurry through sliding doors into the hospital beyond.

The doctors take him in almost immediately, leaving Gil and Vijay feeling useless in the waiting room. As promised, Gil uses some of the time to get Vijay's statement about the events that transpired, biting his tongue to keep from yelling at the man for being so goddamn stupid. His little stunt could have ended up killing himself and Malcolm. 

Once he's finished his statement, Gil tells Vijay he's free to leave for the time being, but warns him to make himself available until the investigation wraps up. They both know there's a possibility that he'll face charges for attempting to broker a deal for stolen goods but neither of them acknowledge the fact, far more important things taking up their thoughts.

"If it's alright with you, boss, I think I'll hang around a little longer. Make sure he's okay," Vijay says, somehow looking perfectly at ease in his five-figure suit, even seated in a hard plastic chair in the middle of an emergency room waiting area. But Gil can see, beneath his casually crossed legs and relaxed posture that Vijay is just as concerned about Malcolm as he is.

Vijay and Malcolm are from a world that Gil will never fully understand, which was why, despite where the Chandasara family money came from, Gil had been so pleased when Malcolm made a friend in Vijay all those years ago. It was the only real friendship the kid seemed to manage in the decade after his father's arrest and it brought Malcolm out of the fortress of walls he'd erected around himself. The time he'd spent with Vijay back then was perhaps the happiest Gil had ever seen Malcolm, and it broke his heart when that friendship ended. 

At the time, Gil had been unreasonably angry with Vijay, a kid he'd never even met. But he realizes now that Vijay was just a kid back then, too, and clearly his feelings about Malcolm weren't quite as flippant as Gil had assumed. Vijay obviously still cares about Malcolm, and Malcolm can use all the friends he can get.

Gil arches an eyebrow and nods his consent for Vijay to stick around, and they both fall into silence, waiting alone, together, for news on Bright. It's a little over two hours in when Vijay breaks the quiet that's settled between them.

"You know, back when we were kids, Whitly used to talk about you all the time," Vijay keeps his eyes forward as he speaks, watching the comings and goings of the room in front of him. "Accidentally called you 'dad' a couple of times, too. He'd laugh it off, but I know that's how he thought of you."

Gil has thought of Malcolm like a son since the day the quiet boy with wide eyes told him to draw his gun and saved his life, but he'd never really considered the idea that Malcolm may have thought of him like a father. Hearing it, even just second hand, warms his heart and he finds himself blinking back tears, at a loss as to what to say.

"I'm glad he still has you looking out for him," Vijay adds quietly, sincerity cracking his cheerfully insouciant facade. It saves Gil the trouble of coming up with something to say, a silent understanding passing between them that speaks volumes about how much Malcolm Bright means to the people in his life.

It's about an hour longer before a nurse comes out to speak with Gil. She's a spunky little thing with an energy that makes Gil tired to even witness.

"Lieutenant Arroyo?" she asks as she walks up to Gil and Vijay, both men getting to their feet, dwarfing her small frame. She looks up with a smile as she says, "Mr. Bright is back from imaging and I can take you back to him, if you'd like. The doctor will be by shortly to speak with you both about the results."

"He's okay?" Vijay asks.

"He's resting comfortably right now, but the doctor will have to give you the details," she says, glancing over to Vijay with a twinkle in her eye, but quickly turning her attention back to Gil. "Mr. Bright has you listed as next of kin, so I can take you back to him. Unfortunately it's family only, right now…"

She leaves the statement open ended, allowing Vijay to fill in his relationship to the patient.

"Cool beans, now that I know he's alright, I can head out for the night," Vijay says, turning his million watt smile on Gil. "Gotta phone a man about a watch, and all that. You'll, uh. You'll keep me posted on how he's doing?" The smile falters, as if Vijay isn't sure where exactly he stands with the Lieutenant. 

"I'll text you with an update after I see him," Gil promises, then adds more sternly, "and I'll be in touch about your little stunt."

Vijay gives a brief salute that somehow doesn't seem as irritating as it probably should, and turns to the exit without another word, strutting out like he doesn't have a care in the world.

Gil shakes his head and turns his attention back to the nurse, whose eyes are following Vijay's retreating form. He clears his throat and she turns back to him, flashing a smile as she gestures for him to follow. He debates telling her that Vijay is far more trouble than he's worth, but figures she'll probably never see the man again and keeps his mouth shut.

She leads Gil down a number of hallways, to a curtained off cubicle — a small space containing a flimsy plastic chair, a handful of machines, and a bed, where Malcolm is laid out fast asleep. 

"The doctor will be around soon, but you're free to sit with him until then," the nurse says, gesturing to the orange chair and turning to leave.

"Is it safe for him to be sleeping," Gil calls out, concerned about Bright sleeping with a concussion, even if the nurse didn't seem at all worried.

She takes a few steps back to the cubicle, and smiles warmly at him. "Yes, he's fine. We'll be waking him up throughout the night, but it's actually good for his brain to sleep right now." 

"Thank you," Gil says, relieved not only that Malcolm is okay, but that he might actually get some much needed rest. 

The nurse leaves and Gil pulls the chair next to Malcolm's bed, readying himself for an uncomfortable night ahead. The number of times that Gil has sat vigil at Malcolm's bedside throughout his relatively short life would be comical if it wasn't so heartbreaking. Somehow, it never seems to get any easier.

He reaches out and wraps Malcolm's hand in his own, unsure whether he's giving or taking comfort, but not really caring either way.

"You gave me a bit of a scare there, kid," Gil says after a few moments of stillness, voice pitched low and quiet so as to not wake him.

It doesn't work.

"Sorry," Malcolm says just as quietly, eyes blinking open sluggishly.

As much as he wants Malcolm to get the sleep he so desperately needs, Gil can't deny, even to himself, that he's happy to see Malcolm awake.

"Hey, kid," Gil smiles, "how are you feeling?"

"Tired," Malcolm admits, "bit of a headache. But I'll be fine."

"How about we wait and see what the doctor has to say about that, hmm?" Gil chuckles, knowing that Malcolm is already contemplating signing himself out AMA. "Close your eyes and rest a bit, Bright. I'll wake you when the doctor comes."

He can only imagine how tired Malcolm must be, considering how quickly he acquiesces. But Gil isn't going to look that gift horse in the mouth. He keeps Malcolm's hand in his, but pulls out his phone to shoot some texts off. He starts with Dani and JT, updating them on Malcolm and asking them for updates on the case in return. Then he moves onto Jessica, letting her know what happened and that Malcolm is alright, promising to text again as soon as the doctor delivers his prognosis. Finally, he sends a message to Vijay, letting him know he's seen Malcolm, and that he appears tired but better.

Sooner than Gil expects, a doctor makes his way into the cubicle. He's an older, white-haired man that Gil would guess is pushing 70, but he has kind eyes and Gil immediately takes a liking to him.

"Hello," he says, his voice echoing in the small space, carefully calculated to wake a sleeping patient. He waits for Malcolm's eyes to blink open before he introduces himself, "I'm Doctor Edelstein, and I'd like to go over the results of your tests with you."

Gil looks to Malcolm, making sure that he's well enough to understand what the doctor is saying, and is pleased to see a clarity in Malcolm's gaze behind the black smudges that are ringing his eyes. He's clearly exhausted and in pain, but he's lucid.

"So, the good news is that there's nothing on your scans that's a cause for serious concern," Doctor Edelstein smiles at Malcolm, "the bad news is that you're going to have a heck of a headache for a few days."

Gil huffs out a laugh, tension that he didn't know he was carrying draining from his body at the news. He drops his chin to his chest and tries to calm his rapid heart beat, relief and adrenaline flooding through his system at the same time. He looks up when Malcolm squeezes his hand, reassuring him that he's fine, like _he's_ the one in need of comfort right now. Gil returns the squeeze before both men turn their attention back to the doctor. 

"You have a moderate concussion. Now, I'm going to admit you overnight so we can keep an eye on you, just to make sure there's no unforeseen complications. But if everything goes well, and I expect it will, you'll be out by early morning."

Doctor Edelstein smiles down at them from where he's standing at the foot of the bed, a warmth in his eyes as he looks at Gil and Malcolm's joined hands that says he has a son of his own and understands what Gil is going through.

"I'll send you home with some care instructions, but the gist of it is that you need to take it easy for a few days, light activities only," the doctor explains, and Gil has to bite back the smirk that's trying to break free. 'Malcolm' and 'take it easy' are much the same as oil and water. "No screens for the next 48 hours or so either. That means television, phone, tablet, any other gadgets that kids these days are using. You need to let your brain rest."

At that, Malcolm _does_ laugh and then immediately slams his free hand to his head with a groan.

"Hey, Bright, take it easy there," Gil says, rising to his feet and bringing a hand to the crook of Malcolm's neck, lightly kneading the muscles there until he feels them start to relax under his touch.

"For tonight, just try to relax and sleep it off. Unfortunately the nurses will be waking you every few hours to make sure you're still cognizant, but otherwise, try to get some rest." The doctor pats Malcolm's foot where it is buried beneath a couple of thin hospital blankets, and nods to Gil before he turns to leave, heading off to his next patient.

Malcolm's eyes are scrunched tight against the pain in his head, but eventually his features begin to smooth out, his hand slowly releasing from the tight fist that had been gripping his hair. It doesn't take long before his breathing evens out, falling slow and deep, and Gil is grateful to find that Malcolm has fallen asleep again.

He eases himself back into the chair, and spends the night at Malcolm's side, waking him gently from his nightmares, talking him through his confusion, carrying on hushed conversations when Malcolm is unable to fall back asleep until his eyelids once again begin to droop and the concussion pulls him back under.

By the time morning rolls around and the doctor comes to examine Malcolm once again, Gil is absolutely exhausted. He moves out of the way as the doctor looks Malcolm over one last time, thoroughly checking him before declaring him fit for discharge. The news is met with the first genuine smile Gil's seen from the kid all night, and he can't deny he feels a little lighter himself. With a promise that a nurse will be by with the discharge paperwork in the next hour or so, Doctor Edelstein wishes them both well and exits their little cubicle.

Malcolm looks to be tipping back towards sleep, so Gil scrubs a hand over his face and pushes to his feet. "Kid, why don't you close your eyes a little longer? I'm gonna run down to the cafeteria and grab a cup of coffee while we wait, okay?"

Malcolm smiles sleepily and gives a small nod, eyes fluttering closed before he even finishes moving his head. A quick pat on the arm and Gil is making his way through the winding hospital corridors in search of the cafeteria that's promised on the signs he passes.

It's too early for the full cafeteria to be open — the rolling bars are pulled down over most of the counter space — but there is someone, thankfully, serving coffee and tea and pre-wrapped desserts that look a few days old and hardly appetizing. He settles for a large coffee to go and takes a sip before he's even left the counter. It's kind of weak, and definitely overcooked, but it's honestly no worse than the coffee at the precinct, and all that matters at this point is it's hot and has a kick that's going to keep him running for a few more hours.

The cafeteria is relatively empty, a mere handful of the dozens of tables occupied, mostly by people who look just as drained as he feels. He makes his way to an empty spot away from the other patrons and sets his coffee down with a tired sigh. The chair's back legs scrape across the linoleum as he pulls it out, and Gil casts an apologetic look to the few weary eyes that dart over to him at the obnoxious noise.

He takes some time to just sit and rest his eyes, hands wrapped around the double cup of his drink, soaking in the warmth that makes it through the makeshift insulation. After what feels like only seconds, though, he decides that he'd better send out some texts before the troops start descending on the hospital. With yet another sigh, he pulls out his phone and fills Jess in on the doctor's prognosis, then sends a quick text to Vijay to let him know they'd be leaving the hospital shortly. He's moved on to sending a group text to Dani and JT when he receives a flurry of messages from Vijay, asking how Malcolm is doing, what the doctors said, if there's going to be any lingering side effects. He rolls his eyes, but he's happy to see proof that Vijay still cares about Malcolm. He finishes texting the team, sends a more detailed text to Vijay, and then tucks his phone away and heads back to Malcolm, finishing his coffee as he walks through the halls and dropping it in the little garbage beside his bed.

It's not long before the nurse comes with his paperwork and soon they're making their way to the car, Gil standing nearby, his hand hovering only inches away from Bright as he lowers himself into the passenger seat, ready to help if needed.

Once Malcolm is settled, Gil gets in and starts up the car but turns to Malcolm to offer, "You know, you're more than welcome to take the guest room at my place for a couple days." Frankly, he'd feel a little better about Bright's release from the hospital if he could keep an eye on him, even if the doctor assured Gil that he'd be fine on his own.

Malcolm smiles over at him, but his eyes are squinted enough that Gil can tell he's still battling one hell of a headache as he says, "Thank you, but I'm really just looking forward to crawling into my bed, for a change."

Gil spends half a second wondering if Malcolm really means it, or if he's going to be rushing headlong into danger as soon as Gil drops him off, but it already looks like Malcolm's having trouble keeping his eyes open, so Gil trusts him to actually sleep this one off. "Okay. Offer stands if you change your mind, though."

He's easing into traffic as Malcolm says, "Thank you, Gil," and Gil understands that he's not just thanking him for the offer of a spare room and some company.

He reaches over and gives the kid's shoulder a squeeze in lieu of a response, and then focuses his attention back on the road. Navigating the building rush of morning commuters eats most of his attention, so it takes several minutes before he notices Malcolm flicking through his phone, a small frown finding its way to his face. He reaches over and snatches the phone from Bright's hand, shoving it into his pocket as he says, "What part of no screen time did you not understand?"

Malcolm's lack of response is, oddly, more worrying than anything else, and he looks over to find him deep in thought, his fingers absently tracing the crease of his pants.

"What's up, kid?"

It takes a few seconds before Malcolm answers quietly, "Just thought Vijay might have texted." Gil can see the rejection descending on Malcolm, thinking Vijay has abandoned him once again, the hurt from all those years ago bubbling to the surface in an instant. But before Gil can even say a word, Malcolm sits a little straighter, slaps a smile on his face, and Gil would swear he can see every brick of the wall the kid is building around himself. "It's fine. I'm sure he's busy with the watches."

" _I've_ been texting with Vijay, keeping him posted about how you're doing." Though Gil keeps his face angled to the road, he surreptitiously casts worried glances towards Malcolm. "He's pretty concerned about you, but I told him you won't be using your phone for the next couple days."

Malcolm relaxes at the reassurance — or, more accurately, he stops fighting the exhaustion that's overtaking him, sinking bonelessly into the seat — but the small, pleased smile on his face tells Gil that he's going to be just fine. He keeps his eyes closed for the remainder of the trip, trusting Gil to get him home safely.

Which he does. Gil wraps a steadying arm around Malcolm to get him up to his apartment, making sure he doesn't take a tumble on the stairs, and guides him directly to his bed with surprisingly few objections from Malcolm. Once he's strapped in and Gil doesn't have to worry about him accidentally hurting himself, he starts to make his way to the living room, but is halted by Malcolm's voice.

"You're staying?" Malcolm asks, and the tiny speck of hope that's wrapped up in the middle of the disbelief has Gil swallowing around a lump in his throat, blaming the sleepless night for the rush of emotions.

"Of course," Gil smiles gently, "I'll be on the couch. Just yell if you need anything, kid."

"Thank you, Gil," Malcolm whispers, eyes fluttering closed as a smile spreads over his face.

And if Gil hears the faint echo of, "thank you, dad," in the words, no one but him needs to know about it.


End file.
